


Marisol Fuentes Definitely Does Not Have a Crush on Mikey Gutierrez: A Case Study

by TheGirlWithTheGlasses



Category: Mr. Iglesias (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I REGRET NOTHING, Multi, enjoy the sweet drivel yall, holy crap yall, i am my own beta and i go unchecked, i am very heavily projecting onto marisol, i must stop this, i'm actually not sick this time whoa, implied bi marisol, mari and mikey remind me a lot of me and my 'person' and it shows, send help, this is a straight up roller coaster, this is such a rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 05:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithTheGlasses/pseuds/TheGirlWithTheGlasses
Summary: In which Marisol is confused about her own feelings and has an intense desire to be right, so she launches a whole ass research project in response to some kindergarten teasing.(Or, in which Marisol is extra, Grace is pure, Walt, Lorenzo, and Rita are learning to be happy, Rakeem isn't as bad at the feelings game as he thought he was, Mikey is just trying his best, and Gabe has to put up with all of this bullshit in his classroom at once.)





	Marisol Fuentes Definitely Does Not Have a Crush on Mikey Gutierrez: A Case Study

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This is the child of an incredibly late night binge watch and way too much coffee. Once again, I regret absolutely nothing. Enjoy the fluff and the stupid romantic comedy situations. Have fun.

Marisol Fuentes Definitely Does Not Have a Crush on Mikey Gutierrez: A Case Study  
By Marisol Fuentes (Negatory), Grace Aung (Affirmative), Mr. Gabriel Iglesias (Affirmative), Walt Smit (Affirmative), Lorenzo [REDACTED] (Affirmative)  
Additional assistance to Ms. Fuentes by Gabriel Iglesias and Abigail Spencer

Purpose of Case Study: To determine whether or not Ms. Marisol Fuentes is crushing on Mr. Mikey Gutierrez.

Procedures: Structure examples by writing down specific dates, then an honest, impartial account of the events that have transpired. No opinions permitted. 

Working Hypothesis for the Negatory: Ms. Fuentes does not and has never had a “thing” for Mr. Gutierrez because she is far too busy to consider getting into a relationship, so she has never allowed herself to look at anyone in that manner, and even if she did, Mr. Gutierrez is almost comically ignorant of the most basic facts and possesses little to no desirable qualities one would look for in a significant other.

Working Hypothesis for the Affirmative: Ms. Fuentes has been into Mr. Gutierrez literally since the first day of freshman year, as says everyone who lays eyes on them. The only reason she doesn’t know about it is because she’s so focused and driven regarding everything in her own life, as it is highly stressful, so she hasn’t had time to think about her own feelings. 

Important Dates:  
Beginning of Study: Wednesday, February 1st- 7:35 am  
End of Study: Monday, March 4th- 2:35 pm  
Final Meeting Between Affirmative and Negatory (Presentations): Wednesday, March 6th- 2:36 pm

Formal voting procedures and a conclusional committee will be held three weeks from the completed report date, to be determined after the complete case study is typed, proofread, and submitted by an independent source, also to be determined. The committee is as follows:

Member One (Chair): Principal Paula Madison  
Member Two: Mr. Tony Ochoa  
Member Three: Ms. Abigail Spencer  
Faculty Supervisor: Mr. Gabriel Iglesias

Evidence (Impartial)

Wednesday, February 1st- The Classroom Incident  
Submitted by Marisol Fuentes, Negatory

It’s a simple, normal Wednesday. Marisol’s made calls for only five hours instead of six before school starts because it’s not every day she aces a math test like the one she aced yesterday. She got an extra one percent, so she can sleep a little more than usual. She steps into class with a little spring in her step, tossing her backpack next to her chair and giving Mr. Iglesias a wave, which he returns without looking up. 

Mikey’s not next to her yet, which is fairly normal considering his penchant for being late, although Marisol strongly suspects it’s not completely his fault. She stretches out in her seat, flipping Walt off after he teasingly pretends to hike up his shirt into a crop top. Yeah. Today is a good day. Grace tosses her the extra apple she pretends she packs on accident, and she leans back and closes her eyes lazily for a couple extra minutes.

The bell rings in what feels like ten seconds, and Mr. Iglesias sweeps around the room in his normal dramatic ways until he gets to the door and closes it. “Good morning, settle down!,” he shouts over the vague buzz. “Let the undercurrent cease!”

Marisol combs her fingers through her hair as he starts attendance. She does her usual hand raise when she hears her name.

Something feels-odd in a way. It’s just a little different from her productive little spot of morning bliss. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but it is extremely disconcerting. 

“Mikey?,” Mr. Iglesias calls. Marisol instinctively turns to watch Mikey crash and burn like he does every day during attendance because he always answers with some weird Fortnite taunt or something-but she stops cold. Mikey’s seat is completely empty.

In reality, things proceed as usual, but Marisol is stuck on Mikey’s empty spot. He’s never been this late before. It’s usually a few minutes before or a few minutes after the bell. She can’t remember a day where he’d been absent, either, and she never is because she wills herself into having perfect attendance at least for this class, so she would definitely know if he’d ever been out before. 

It takes Mr. Iglesias starting to perform the character of Mary-Todd Lincoln to snap her out of her weird dissociation. She shakes her head like a dog shaking off water and starts to take notes about the importance of the role of first ladies within the presidency. But she keeps having these thoughts, harkening back to things Mikey had said the last time they’d discussed Lincoln, or his complete flame out during the infamous oral reports last summer. It’s not only memories, too, it’s stuff that she could say to him to make him laugh, or maybe a new mnemonic device they could use to study for the next test. 

The bell rings, and Marisol blinks to find most of the other kids filing out and Mr. Iglesias standing over her desk.

“Are you okay?,” he asks suspiciously. “That was an awful lot of daydreaming for one class, especially for you. Are you sleeping?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answers, starting to gather up her things. “I’m okay. Just an off day, you know? Thanks for not calling me out on it.”

“Sure thing,” he nods. “And Marisol?”

She turns on her way out. “Yep?”

“Word of advice,” Mr. Iglesias says, smirking. “If you really don’t want the entire class knowing that you somehow reciprocate that thing Mikey has for you, I’d suggest making sure you can function when he’s not here.”

Marisol can feel her cheeks redden. “I was fine,” she protests. “I was a little groggy.”

“Sure, fine, okay,” he agrees. “If you’re denying that, maybe next time you shouldn’t write notes with his name all over your notebook. Mikey’s out sick today. His mom called. He’s fine. Text him and tell him that joke you wrote down at the top of page 3. Stir the pot a little. See what happens.”

Her face is now tomato red. “I don’t like him!,” she yells as she throws the door open. “I can miss my friend!”

His laughter follows her down the hall, all the way to her next class.

(The next day, Mikey is back in his desk, and early for once, with a smile and about three large oranges to play catch with Lorenzo when Mr. Iglesias isn’t looking. When his name is called on roll, Marisol elbows him when he almost falls out of his desk trying to deep dab. He leans over and doodles a small flower on her paper, but if you look closely, he’s really just drawn a penis. Marisol calmly writes ‘Oscar for principal’ on his worksheet in retaliation. They are now even. At least until English next period.)

Friday, February 15- The Sleep Out Incident  
Submitted by Marisol Fuentes, Negatory

In Marisol’s very humble opinion, the annual ‘sleep out’ is a way to punish all of the students in the school. It’s always a complete mess organizationally, nobody ever has exactly what they actually need to function normally, and the teachers mostly just sit there and watch as the students destroy the environment and do the exact opposite of appreciate being with their schoolmates.

Marisol has spent the last two sleep outs sitting alone in her tiny tent, selling solar panels and doing her work in peace as her classmates push each other to the brink. But this year, she will not be doing that. She will not have her little slice of alone time before the stupid sing-along and the stupid friendship circle and the waste of time that is the scary story session. She also won’t be sleeping alone this time. 

Because Mr. Iglesias’s class came in last in the fund-raiser, they have been forced to sleep on the roof without tents. Marisol will be subjected to all the nonsense for a solid thirteen hours. 

Case in point, she thinks to herself as she watches Walt chase Lorenzo around, using his sleeping bag as a giant butterfly net. She does enjoy her group of weirdos immensely, but this is a lot for one day.

“Mr. Iglesias,” she calls. “Can I just sit up here and not go to the campfire?”

“No, because if I’m suffering, so are you,” he yells back. “Stop running on the roof, idiots! You’re gonna fall off and die!”

Great. An evening watching Mr. Ochoa make a fool of himself in front of Ms. Spencer and Principal Madison host an event to the nines, which she usually enjoys, but she’s already so annoyed and keyed up, she doesn’t know how she’ll enjoy it. “Stepford!,” Marisol hollers across the roof at him, because she knows nobody will understand how truly gorgeous that insult is but the two of them. 

Mr. Iglesias whirls on her. “You take that back this instant!” There’s an announcement from the field that Capture the Flag is about to begin. 

He takes a deep breath and snags Mikey’s bedsheet, which Rakeem seems to be using as a cape. “Never mind. This isn’t over. We’re finishing this after we kick the honors students’ collective asses. Also, everyone quit stealing stuff just to annoy me!”

Walt halfheartedly returns Mr. Iglesias’ wallet to his pocket, just as Lorenzo returns his vape. Marisol sends both of them a look that says she won’t tell, and reluctantly descends the stairs to go spend two hours pretending to care about some random scrap of fabric.

^^^  
Following the gratuitous game, the entirety of the stupid campfire (although she enjoyed Mikey’s little yelp when she grabs his shoulders during the story about the man with a hook for a hand they tell every year), and the group discussion that’s supposed to make them see each other in a ‘different light’ that never does, Marisol relishes the chance for quiet. She crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep. 

For around an hour.

It turns out the roof is deceivingly cold. And full of gravel. Both of these are highly counterproductive to getting any restful sleep and true to form, Marisol can’t fall asleep anymore. She reaches for her phone. 2 am, reads the ruthless display. She flops over in her sleeping bag, onto her stomach, and notices someone else sitting a few feet away, looking up at the stars. 

She shoots a look to her right-Walt and Lorenzo sharing a blanket. On her left, Grace sleeping with her glasses on and Rakeem twitching his feet in his sleep. And one empty pile of blankets and twisted sleeping bag belonging to a certain someone belonging to the Fortnite club.

Marisol grins to herself. She wraps her blanket around her and pads over to where Mikey is sitting.

“You can’t sleep?,” she asks, easing herself down into the pile of gravel next to him. 

He oddly doesn’t lose it, which she chalks up to how late it is. “No,” he says, turning his gaze to her. “It’s stupid we have to do this. Did anyone actually come up here and consider the fact that this is uninhabitable because it’s the roof?”

“That’s a big word,” Marisol teases. “Did you read the dictionary for summer reading again?”

He snorts and sifts some of the gravel through his hands. “No, that’s the one thing I picked up from Mrs. Ortiz yelling at me about my desk yesterday because she made me look it up.”

She laughs. “That’s easily the loudest I’ve heard her yell since Walt tried to start the vape train in third period. It was an achievement.”

“Thanks,” Mikey jokingly bows to her. “It’s my pleasure to entertain you as we fuck Shakespeare over.”

“That’s a complete understatement. Lorenzo pronounced ‘Juliet’ as ‘Jules’ today. It was ridiculous.”

They both break into giggles. Marisol bumps shoulders with him and smiles.

“So why can’t you sleep besides, you know, everything?”

Mikey sucks in his cheeks. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“No, I won’t laugh,” Marisol says stubbornly. “I promise, if I didn’t laugh at you when Ortiz dumped your desk on the floor, I won’t laugh at you now.”

He stares at the ground for a second. “Okay. So I share a room with two of my younger brothers, and I kind of find it hard to sleep without the noise. One of them snores a little and the other one breathes loud, and it’s just-comforting, I guess. Go ahead, make fun of me.”

“That’s kind of sweet, Mikey,” she grins. “Uh-I can’t sleep either. I’m cold because I sleep with my sister and without her, it feels freezing.”

“Hey,” he says after a beat of silence. “Uh-you can totally slap me in the face if you want, and I’ll never speak of this again, but lots of people are accidentally, like-sleeping really close together, like look at Rakeem and Grace-”

“Oh, no”, she interjects. “That is clearly on purpose.”

“But-like, you’re cold, and I need noise, and-well-”

That’s when it occurs to Marisol exactly what he’s talking about. There’s a little rush of heat through her core that she pushes aside for the time being. The offer seems almost kind, and Mikey is very seriously blushing. 

She makes her decision quickly.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” she says, trying her best to act nonchalant and rising to her fee. “Are you coming?”

(Marisol settles her head firmly on Mikey’s chest. They both sleep just fine, and nobody says anything to them in the morning because they’re way too busy teasing Walt for his morning wood. Just as they’d sworn to do, they never speak of this again, but she can feel that something has changed. Mikey calms down a little around her, and touching shoulders becomes their weird little thing. It’s almost disturbingly comforting, but true to form, Marisol doesn’t decide to figure her shit out. She just chooses to not think about it.)

Sunday, February 24th- The Science Fair Incident  
Submitted by Mr. Gabriel Iglesias, Affirmative 

The first thing Marisol says when she walks into the gym on the morning of the science fair is, “Is this room spinning?”

The second thing is “It’s really hot-no, it’s really cold in here.”

And by the time the entire class is looking at her with extreme concern, the third and final thing is, “I’m gonna throw up.”

With that single warning, she pukes directly onto Mikey’s shoes, swaying on her feet for a second before successfully losing consciousness against him. 

Predictably, as in Gabe’s experiences, high schoolers tend not to be incredibly mature when it comes to someone getting sick in class. He elects to follow the traditional ‘teacher vomit checklist’. First, check for sympathy pukers. A quick scan reveals no immediate signs. Grace quickly volunteers to notify Jim the janitor, leaving him available to check in on Marisol, and make sure that Mikey is surviving as well.

He turns to find Mikey rather maturely removing his shoes and gently helping Marisol over to the bleachers, where he props her up, sitting next to her so she can lean on him. Gabe is very surprised by this sequence of events, but he gets less concerned when she wakes up slightly, still really sleepy. 

Mikey looks to see him approaching. “Hey,” he says. “She’s really of out of it. I don’t know what we should do.”

“What about your sneakers?”

He shrugs. “I have a lot of siblings, so it’s not like that hasn’t happened before. I’ll just hose them down on the way home.”

Marisol stirs again, then sits upright and makes a very very bad face. Thanks to Walt putting a trash can next to his project so he can destroy it as soon as possible, she doesn’t throw up on anyone. Gabe thinks about helping, but Mikey is already holding her hair back and telling her that it’s okay. She finishes and slumps backwards, leaning into nothing. When she realizes Mikey isn’t sitting next to her anymore, she makes a highly affronted noise and hauls him back in by the sleeve of his shirt. He looks like he’s made the honor roll.

“Head hurts,” she groans. “Too bright.”

Gabe sits next to her. “What hurts?”

“Head,” she whispers again. “Shaky. Cold. Stomach hurts, too.”

Without being asked, Mikey drapes his sweatshirt around her shoulders. There has to be something going on that Gabe doesn’t know about, because he is acting incredibly mature and not freaking out because Marisol is touching him.

“What about the science fair?,” she breathes, reaching out a quavering hand. “I worked so hard on that project, it would have beat Whitney’s-”

“You can’t go up there like this,” Gabe tells her openly. “You’re sick.”

“Am not,” she argues. “I can do this. I don’t want to let anybody down.”

“I know you don’t want to miss it, but you need to rest! You definitely have a fever and chills, and you’re shaking.”

Marisol throws off the hoodie and stands up defiantly. “I have to present today! It’s make or break for my grade!”

“I know you want to do this really badly,” Gabe says carefully, “but I really think you need to go home.”

“Great,” she says frostily. “Thank you for your opinion. I’m going to go give my presentation-oh, oh, dizzy, oh my god.” She sways dangerously once again and he’s easily able to guide her down onto the bleachers once again.

“Let me try,” Mikey offers. “Just gimme a sec, okay?”

What the hell, Gabe figures. He walks a few paces away, giving Lorenzo a very annoyed look when he tries to hotwire whatever kind of villainous supercomputer Grace has constructed, let him give it a shot. He already knows how it’s going to turn out, so there isn’t any real risk involved before he’ll have to step-

“We figured it out.”

Surprised, Gabe turns to see Mikey standing there. “You did?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go on with her. I’ll do most of it, because then we can show how easy it is to follow, and if she needs to take a break she can. Carlson’ll probably say it’s innovative or something.”

“You got it that fast?”

Mikey shrugs. “Well, yeah. Duh. It’s not that hard.”

And with that, he goes back to sit with Marisol, bumping her shoulder once, which makes her smile a little for some reason. 

“If it gets too much, just tap on my hand,” he’s gently telling her. “You can take a break, or be done. It’s gonna be fine.”

She murmurs something quietly, which makes him laugh. “He tries, you know that.”

Gabe doesn’t know whether to feel completely insulted that he apparently doesn’t know how to talk to Marisol, dumbfounded that Mikey somehow does, or impressed at his handling of the situation. He goes with somewhere in the middle of all three.

Pride is added to the mix when Marisol and Mikey finish first. Ms. Carlson calls it ‘incredibly creative’. 

(Directly after the ceremony, she collapses again, and because Gabe is done being scared for her safety, he calls an ambulance. It turns out she has appendicitis. Her surgery is scheduled for one day later. Mikey is in class that day, and he looks sicker than she had. Everybody leaves him alone for most of the day, and the second someone calls Gabe to let him know it was successful, he knows exactly who to forward the news to. Mikey instantaneously relaxes. His signature hoodie is still missing. It can be found in the picture of Marisol post-surgery, hanging over her hospital gown.)

Tuesday, February 26- The Druggie Incident  
Submitted by Grace Aung, Affirmative

Grace had figured that it would have been easy to convince everyone else they should visit Mari in the hospital after school, but she had been so very wrong. 

“Hospitals depress me,” said Walt. 

“Those places have too many cameras,” said Lorenzo.

“ImalreadygoingtomorrowandItalkedtoherlastnightbye,” mumbled Mikey, blushing crimson.

“No,” said Rakeem. “Not even for you, Gracie.” (Only Rakeem and her mom are allowed to call her Gracie, just like how only she calls Marisol ‘Mari’.)

So Grace goes alone to the hospital after she finishes taking the short answer part of her English midterm. She checks in to get her visitor badge and heads to the second floor ICU, room nineteen.

A nurse stops her outside Mari’s room. “Are you here to see Ms. Fuentes?”

Grace nods. 

The nurse winks at her. “Before you go in there, you might want to get your camera ready. She is still processing the anesthesia.”

Grace gets out her phone and turns it to video. Mari is sleeping when she gets in. The TV is on and turned to the Smithsonian channel, which is showing a space marathon. She looks really peaceful, and considering that the last time she saw her, she was burning up and puking in a high school gymnasium, it’s an immense improvement. Marisol snuffles a little and turns her legs over to the left. Grace digs her laptop out of her bag and hacks YouTube algorithms for awhile.

Some quiet giggles erupt from the bed about a half hour later. Grace eagerly scrambles for her phone, setting her computer safely inside her bag. “Hey, Mari, it’s Grace. How are you?”

Marisol turns over to her other side to face her visitor. Her eyes are glassy, and to use Walt’s favorite phrase in a sentence, she is “tripping balls”.

“My face feels weird,” she slurs. Grace immediately starts recording, because something in her head clearly knows this is gonna be good.

“Hey, girl,” she says, gently touching her wrist. “How you doing?”

“Tired. Doesn’t hurt anymore. Doctor said I don’t have an apple anymore, but I want an apple.”

“They gave you the really good drugs, huh,” Grace observes idly.

“You’re Grace,” Marisol realizes. “I really like you and I don’t think I tell you enough. You’re, like, the least annoying person in that classroom.”

“Thanks, sweetie, I like you a lot too. How’s the scar down there?”

“Good,” she mumbles, twisting her fingers in her hospital gown. “They cut me open and put me back together. Like in SpongeBob that one time. I wanna be SpongeBob when I grow up.”

“Oh, honey, I do too,” Grace says, finding it very hard to stifle her giggles behind her hand anymore, so she decides it’s time to switch the subject. She digs in her bag and finds the card and the other crap people sent to Mari.

“Here,” she says, handing her the piece of paper they spent an entire class period on. “That’s from everybody. We drew Mr. Iglesias’ favorite poster for you, and then we signed it. Nobody else could come though.”

Marisol nods slowly, looking over what she’s been given. Grace gets the distinct feeling she has absolutely no idea what she’s looking at and a little bit of a scary idea that she can’t read it. 

“Walt sent this...thing he made out of Juul pods and hot glue, and if you don’t mind I think I’m just going to throw that away. No one would want that. Rakeem sent this note that says he misses you and your help during class, which is great, except he wrote it on notebook paper that he also doodled a basketball on, and Lorenzo apparently just signed his name on that as well. Great. Even in times of crisis, they’re minimal effort.”

Mari wriggles a little in her blankets as her blood pressure cuff activates. Grace suddenly notices a beautiful vase of flowers next to her bed.

“Who sent those?,” she asks.

“Rita,” Grace hears faintly from the other side of the bed. “She’s realllly pretty and sweet.”

“I got you one of those ugly stuffed animals,” she sets it on Mari’s chest. “I just thought you’d like a little something to hold onto in here.”

She doesn’t get a huge response, but she does see her hug it close to her chest as the cuff releases.

“Oh, and Mikey said he was coming sometime tomorrow, okay? He had Fortnite club after school today. He said you’d understand.”

Marisol gets a big grin on her face. “I know. He’s the best. I like him a lot too, but you can’t tell him.” She leans closer. “Do you wanna know a really big secret? I like like him.”

Grace stops. “You like him? Like boyfriend like him?”

“Yeah. You can’t tell him. He can’t know that I wanna kiss him all over his stupid face and hold his hand and cry on him during movies.”

“Why can’t he know? I think he’d definitely feel that way too.”

“He just can’t. It’s stupid. Feelings are dumb,” she pouts. “I can’t make me not like him and I don’t like that.”

(The nurse pokes her head in and signals to Grace that she needs to do some work on Mari, so she says her goodbyes and leaves in a hurry. Late that night she texts her, do u remember what u told me today? Mari’s reply is instantaneous. No. Then, right after that, yes.  
Please promise that you won’t say anything. I shouldn’t have told you that.  
i won’t, Grace texts back. but maybe u should.)

Wednesday, February 27- The Hospital Incident  
Submitted by Marisol Fuentes, Negatory

Marisol turns over onto her side and lets out a big sigh of annoyance.

The hospital is the worst, most boring place imaginable. It is incredibly dull. Literally nothing is happening because the ‘gastrology’ wing is not exactly a hub of activity. The nurses and doctors have been nice and everything, but she is chomping at the bit to get out as fast as she can.

The anesthesia finally has stopped affecting her, so she’s been allowed to brush her own teeth and hair and shower on her own for the first time in three days. Nothing has ever felt that good. She’s expecting the rehab specialist in about an hour so she can start to walk.

Marisol has spent the majority of her stay alone. It’s not that her family hasn’t visited, they just can’t stay long because jobs are a thing and her sister needs to be taken care of too. A surprising amount of school people have come; Grace came after school yesterday and brought her a card and a cute stuffed animal, Ms. Spencer and Principal Madison gave her a nice bar of soap and a cup of hot chocolate from the shop right by her house and joked about how desperate Mr. Ochoa looked on Monday, and of course Mr. Iglesias has been there as much as he can and secretly Skyped her in class today so she could at least hear what the lecture is about. She’s lucky to have so many people who care that much.

Speaking of people who care quite a bit about her, she looks up to see Mikey standing there looking incredibly awkward and like he’s about to jump out of his own skin.

“Hey,” he says, walking in and putting his stuff down next to her bed. “How-how are you doing?”

“Decent,” she answers. “Hard not to poke at the stitches, I can’t walk, and the food sucks.”

“Sounds pretty standard.” He eases himself into one of the chairs lining the walls and scoots it a little closer to the bedside. “We miss you in class.”

“I miss you guys too,” she admits grudgingly. “Even Walt. It’s sort of lonely in here. And kind of unnervingly beige.”

“I thought about bringing you flowers but I decided that would probably be weird,” Mikey blurts, “so I got you some soup and this weird mint chocolate thing that Grace swore up and down you liked. I-I hope that’s right. I got the soup recipe off the internet so I wouldn’t, like, kill you with my mom’s idea of food.”

Marisol eagerly sits up at the mention of food that’s not medicated or ‘healthy’ in any way. She makes grabby hands at the chocolates and to a lesser degree the soup.

“Oh, real food,” she practically sings out as he carefully hands her the containers. “You are the literal best. Thank you.”

Mikey blushes a little at the compliment and slumps back on the chair. “You’re welcome. I just figured you could use something that wasn’t Jello, you know?”

She gratefully takes off the top of the soup, because she hasn’t had lunch yet anyway, and to her surprise, it actually smells good. She rummages through the ever-present pile of plastic utensils on her bedside table to find a spoon and takes a taste.

“Dude,” she says with her mouth full, “Whoa. This is really good! I didn’t know you could cook!”

Mikey’s grin of omg-she-likes-it is slightly overshadowed by his mumbles of “neither did I.”

“Well, the internet is truly an amazing place,” Marisol observes between sips of soup, careful to not spill any on her incredibly fashionable hospital gown. “You ‘used your resources’. Mr. Iglesias would be so proud of you. He’s been trying to get you to do that all year.”

Mikey laughs and starts to make another joke about the things he says to the class constantly, but her IV drip chooses that exact moment to officially run out and starts to beep loudly. Her nurse comes streaming into the room, and she quickly realizes they are slightly but clearly leaning towards each other. A nurse comes bustling into the room and starts to take the needle out. The eye contact continues.

With the IV disconnected, the nurse disappears, and leaves behind a silence that’s even more awkward than it was earlier. 

“So,” he scuffs part of his sneaker on the ground, “When are they letting you out of here? I kinda miss you annoying me every day and telling me my study habits are trash.”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she says, sitting up again. “I’ll be back at school on Monday if I have my way, and those days off work weren’t easy to get.”

There’s yet another pause. Mikey is staring at the ground still, and things just feel...off. 

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Marisol cuts in. She picks up the box of mints from the table, scooting to one side to give some space. “Come up here and pretend to like these with me while we watch the same NCIS reruns I’ve been watching for three days. This isn’t normal, but we can act like it is, just like movie Fridays at Walt’s house, minus the weed soaked into the couch. Cool?”

His signature grin instantly appears on his face. “Cool.” He toes off his shoes and climbs onto the bed with her, bumping their shoulders together once again. The memories of the science fair and the sleepout flood back.

“Sorry I puked all over your shoes, by the way,” she adds in as she picks the wrapping off the box of mints. “That totally sucked.”

“Nah, I just hosed them off,” he says casually, stretching. “Good as new.” 

Marisol realizes during that interaction they’ve somehow shifted even closer. She quickly snatches the remote and turns the channel to the never ending NCIS loop, pretending that it hasn’t happened. It works well enough.

(“You know what does totally suck?,” Mikey says after a few minutes. “These mints. These suck.” She jokingly pokes him in the ribs, acting affronted that he doesn’t appreciate her great taste in candy, and starts to laugh when he puts an arm around her shoulders and drags her in. Then he leaves his arm there. Then Marisol puts her head on his shoulder. Then she falls asleep. Again, they don’t talk about it.)

Monday, March 5th-The Cherry Pepsi Incident  
Submitted by Mr. Gabriel Iglesias, Affirmative

Mondays during finals are the worst, Gabe thinks to himself as he sits at his desk, quietly watching the shenanigans that conspire before first bell. Sleep deprivation and all of the weekend issues catching up with his students always hit them like a ton of bricks, leading to some of the strangest behavior one could see in a high school.

Case in point, Rakeem picking up Lorenzo’s backpack and chucking it towards a poster of Teddy Roosevelt because he thought Teddy was looking at him weird. It lands directly on Grace’s head. She doesn’t even acknowledge it as she simultaneously drinks from two extra-large coffee cups. Walt has his head on his desk and is deliriously whispering the chorus from that stupid baby shark song.

Gabe figures that Mikey will be at least thirty-five minutes late, given that his track record with all things final or midterm have not been ideal, but Marisol isn’t in her seat waiting for the test to begin. Just as he starts to get up for the traditional ‘hallway check’, Marisol strolls in late, and right behind her, Mikey strolls in early.

Hell hath frozen over. Holy crap.

Neither one of them seem to be any kind of tired. Mikey actually has his backpack. Marisol is smiling. 

Who are these space aliens and where are Gabe’s usual students?

“Morning, Mr. Iglesias,” Marisol calls cheerfully over the relentless noise of the room. “Happy finals week!”

“What’s got you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Ms. “No, I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead, My Grades Are More Important Than My Emotional Well-Being”?”

“I just feel confident about the test, that’s all,” she continues, crossing to put her stuff down at her usual spot. “Mikey helped me figure out this thing where I can prop up my notebook while I work cashier at the drive through. And I actually slept last night. So there’s that.” 

Gabe sees the impending accident in slow motion. He suddenly realizes that an empty bottle of cherry Pepsi has fallen out of Rakeem’s bag following the impromptu game of catch earlier. And that Marisol is walking directly towards it. Carrying a travel mug of coffee. And a large stack of papers.

“Watch out, Mari!,” Grace shouts suddenly. “You’re gonna slip!”

It’s too late. Her foot lands directly onto the bottle, which spins and slides across the floor. Marisol looks down in shock as one of her legs slides out from under her and she pitches backward, falling towards the carpet as Gabe watches helplessly.

Her stack of papers lands on the carpet with a slight flump, and she tries desperately to keep a grip on her coffee. He averts his eyes, not wanting to witness the inevitable injury-but it doesn’t come. 

She hasn’t hit the floor because Mikey Gutierrez, knight in teenage armor, has caught her just in time. Between the relationship dynamic discussion between Walt, Lorenzo, and Rita last week and Rakeem’s rather dramatic dance proposal to Grace, why in the hell has his classroom become some kind of a romantic comedy?

They’re now making incredibly intense eye contact, so Gabe coughs loudly. They spring apart almost instantly and freeze like that. 

He comes close to saying something stupid about it, but literally no one has noticed anything happening because of the small fight happening in the corner between Lorenzo and his shoelaces. Walt is no longer in his desk. Mikey and Marisol are blushing and making weird eye contact alternately. 

God, Gabe hates Monday finals.

(Marisol aces the final. Mikey gets a B. After the test, Gabe visits Marisol at her locker. He doesn’t even say anything, he just stands there. Marisol turns the color of her high-tops, slams her locker door instantly, and shouts, “shut up!” before stomping away. When he asks Mikey about it, he just turns white and stares at the floor. Gabe has forgotten that high schoolers are all pretty much puddles. Whoops.)

Tuesday, March 6th- The Intervention Incident  
Submitted by Rakeem Rozier

Rakeem admits that he isn’t super good at expressing his feelings. That’s just sort of a weakness that he needs to work more on. It’s why he and Grace work so well together, because she didn’t talk for a long time, and now that she does, it can get a little harder for her to say what she feels. Sometimes they can say stuff without saying stuff, and that’s why Rakeem likes to be with her. It makes more sense.

They made sense right away, and it was fairly easy for both of them to figure out they wanted to be together. 

This is why Rakeem does not understand whatever is going on with Marisol and Mikey. The two smartest people he knows, and yet they can’t figure out that they’re completely gone for each other. And to make matters worse, Marisol is so deep in denial that she’s been making them participate in this stupid study to prove that she doesn’t have any feelings when she really does.

To sum it up, Rakeem is only here because Grace asked him and she said please. He’ll do anything for her, except set foot in a hospital or talk to a clown. 

‘INTERVENTION’ is written in large block letters on the board. Everyone in class has been arranged in a circle, and now they’re just sitting there. Waiting. 

Like he said, Rakeem will do anything for Gracie.

Marisol walks through the door about fifteen minutes of absolute silence later, holding her phone. “Hey, where’s the emergency? Did someone fall on the tacks Lorenzo glued to the floor?”

“Mari,” Grace intones quietly. “Have a seat. We need to talk.”

Confused, she sits right across from Rakeem-and sees the intervention declaration.

“It’s gone too far,” Walt says solemnly. “You have to end it.”

“She doesn’t even know what you’re talking about yet, dude!,” Lorenzo hisses out of the corner of his mouth. “Let Gabe do the intro, and then you can get all emotional and do your thing, okay?”

Mr. Iglesias, who is sitting in a high school sized chair, turns to Marisol. “Okay. So when you proposed the idea of having the entire class participate in a study behind Mikey’s back so you could prove once and for all that you operate above having feelings and that you don’t like him, it seemed like it would peter out in a few days because, well, it is a terrible idea and a really good way to hurt Mikey’s feelings. But it didn’t, and you were serious, and now we have to end it. Now, Walt.”

“You have to end it. It’s gone too far,” Walt pipes up, looking way too proud of himself.

Grace pipes up next. “You need to stop obsessively researching and just talk to Mikey, all right? He likes you, and you clearly like him, and you told me you did when you were high as hell on that anesthesia, so I know you know it.”

“The whole thing is unnecessarily complicated and you gotta just kiss ya boy, girl,” Lorenzo chips in. “Also, Rita couldn’t make it, but she said to tell you to get yourself some of that.”

Marisol looks shell-shocked. “I-I can’t,” she says quietly. “I can’t tell him how I feel. You’re right. The study is over. I’m sorry. It was a dumb idea. But I can’t tell him.”

She gets up and walks out of the room, leaving her backpack and her phone on the chair.

Rakeem’s time has come. 

“I got this one, y’all. Gracie, you man things here.”

He finds her sitting directly outside the door against the wall.

“Hey, lady. Why are you being such a downer? Your boy likes you, and he couldn’t be more obvious about it.”

Marisol laughs shakily and rests her head against the wall. “It’s so stupid.”

“Pretty sure it couldn’t be any more stupid than what they tried to do in there. You can tell me, because who am I going to tell?”

“I’m just no good with this stuff,” she confesses after a second. “Math, no problem. Working three jobs, no problem. Dealing with all of my crazy family, I’ve got this. But the second I even think about this, I get scared out of my mind. That probably sounds weirder than anything you’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not good with this stuff either. It’s real scary whenever you open up to someone like that. But if it’s the right person, you can trust them with it. Gracie’s the first person I’ve talked to about stuff like that, and it gets easier. You just have to be as brave as you can, and you’re pretty much the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Marisol thinks about it for a second. “So I should just-try? Even if it’s really stupid and incoherent?”

“Nah, Gutierrez’ll understand, even if it’s not really understandable. He gets you, ya know?”

When he looks at her again, she has a comically large smile on her face. “You know what to do, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, standing up. “I know exactly what to do.”

(Grace gives Rakeem the nicest hug when he goes back in and whispers, ‘nice job’. He can see Marisol power walking in the exact direction of the computer lab. Huh. Maybe he’s better at this feelings stuff than he thought.) 

Friday, March 9th- The Rain Drop Dance

The Rain Drop Dance is stupid. But Marisol has so much riding on tonight she doesn’t have time to worry about being sprayed with a stupid hose by the Student Council during the stupidly inevitable “rain dance” or being forced to pose for stupid pictures with a stupid umbrella.

Currently, she’s pacing the floor in Mr. Iglesias’s room, waiting for Mikey to get there. She hasn’t heard from him since she texted him an hour ago and told him where to meet her. The thick stack of paper in her hands is getting stiff with sweat.

Mikey steps through the door. “Hey, what’s up? You wanted to show me something?”

Okay. Go time. She can do this. 

“Yeah. Here.”

He takes the report and starts to flip through it with a highly bemused expression on his face. 

“Marisol Fuentes most definitely does not have a crush on Mikey Gutierrez: a case study,” he reads aloud. “What? What is this?”

Time to come clean. “So a few months ago everyone was teasing me about liking you, and I swore that I didn’t. And to prove it I made them all do this, where I tried to prove that I didn’t like you, and they tried to prove that I did. It was dumb and really wrong of me to do it without telling you, and a dick move to be this anal about being right all the time while I was that deep in denial. So, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s all fine,” he assures her, the tiny hint of disappointment in his voice clear. “This is in depth, you really go all out-wait, in denial?”

“Um, look at the last page,” she says quietly. “The conclusion.”

Mikey takes a couple of seconds to read it to himself, and a gigantic smile spreads across his face. “Seriously? Are you for real?’

She nods. He gives her a high five. “Dude, you like me? That’s...whoa. That’s a lot. Oh, obviously, I like you too, duh. You like me. Holy shit, you like me. The most amazing girl in the world likes me!”

“Okay, I’m not amazing.”

“You wrote a whole report about me! I’m gonna read the whole thing later. After we dance to Umbrella with umbrellas.”

“I’ll do it, but only for you. And there’s absolutely no chance you’re reading that.”

(Conclusion: Marisol Fuentes most definitely has a big, fat, stupid crush on Mikey Gutierrez, and she is not at all afraid to admit it.)

This report has been saved on Marisol Fuentes’ desktop and will never be shown to anyone again. The original hard copy given to Mikey Gutierrez during the Rain Drop Dance has disappeared, and although he denies it, it is most definitely hidden somewhere undetermined in his basement.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout at me about how much you hate these ships/this fic in the comments. Or leave me kudos if ya like it.
> 
> In all seriousness, stream Mr. Iglesias on Netflix if you can. It's deliciously nineties sitcom-esque, and so, so comforting, not to mention how diverse and open it is about real world issues. It's a wonderful show and you should check it out so we can maybe get a Season 2!!


End file.
